JESUS PAID FOR WHAT?

Middle-Aged Man With Subpar Parents Pissed Off at 13-Year-Old Medical Student

He coulda been someone

Forty-seven-year-old Bob McMeh woke abruptly to a Yahoo News Alert on his Apple watch. A thirteen-year-old girl was being accepted to medical school. Medical school! The world was so impressed. Suckers.

“WTF! Asshole!” Bob yelled into his wrist.

“I have feelings too,” his Apple watch answered in a South African accent. Sexy.

Bob could’ve gone to medical school when he was eight, but nobody helped him with nothin’. Everything Bob accomplished, Bob accomplished solo. He was like a fighter pilot on a one-man plane, in a stormy sky, in the middle of a war, surrounded by lightning bolts. No blue skies or co-pilot for Bob.

Bob would be the first to tell you he was not imbued with natural intelligence like that medical school girl from the headline. Two smart people probably screwed in a library. How could Bob compete with eggs and sperm made into a smoothie with dictionaries, encyclopedias, and hard-cover books?

Having bubbly-brained parents was Bob’s sorry-ass inheritance. It was like he was born in a world without Jesus, so he had to pay for his own damn sins. Nobody got nailed onto a cross for Bob.

When Bob berated his mother about the 13-year-old medical student, his mom said, “That’s cool, honey. Must be a smart girl.”

Bob rebutted, “Mom if you woulda married someone smarter, I coulda been that girl.”

“Bob,” his mom said patiently. “If I married another person, you wouldn’t be anyone.”

Bob knew his mom was trying to trick him so he let that one pass. He reminded his mom they sent him to terrible schools. His elementary and high school education were sub-sub subpar.

“If my education was a submarine,” he yelled at his mom, “it would have resembled a dented-up sardine can, gnawed on by an errant shark, compressed into a sheet of tin by an unforgiving depthless ocean floor, where angler fish are always scaring the shit out of lost scuba divers, where no man, woman or freshwater fish could survive, except maybe Dr. Strange and only briefly.”

“Honey,” said Bob’s mom. “You’ve always been so creative.”

“Why couldn’t you have sent me to private school?” he yelled. “I coulda been that girl!?”

“Honey, you did so many drugs back then, we could barely wake you up for school,” she said, proving she should have married someone with the kind of DNA that made him less drawn to drugs.

Bob was totally alone when it came to doing his homework. His parents asked Bob if he needed help, but they didn’t have convincing voices, so he did not listen. If only they had handcuffed him to a chair and duct taped a pencil to his hand, he coulda been that girl.

Poor Bob. Not a soul in the world eased his path. A trailblazer with nothing but a plastic spoon to cut down those wide trees and prickly branches.

Though Bob struggled in academics, he’d never been tutored. His parents paid for a tutor, but she was wasted on Bob. Susie Bell, the tutor, was so hot Bob could have fried an egg on her.

The only thing she could have tutored Bob in was how to hold onto a boner for 55 minutes.

Life ain’t fair was Bob’s Modus operandi, but sometimes it was balanced. He imagined that 13-year-old medical student was probably an asshole. He had that on her. At least he was a good person. That counted for something.

Thanks to Andrew Rodwin for swooping in for an editing rescue.

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